Numbness
by Dragonflys-Girl
Summary: Where can he find the dummy’s guide to react to the death of someone so integral and crucial in his life? Spoiler Season 2 Finale


Title: Numbness

Author: Peach

Spoiler: Season 1 & 2 (well, pretty much a given, eh?)

Archive: Obviously it'll be on my site once I get my butt off to get everything organized again. It will also be on As for the Yahoo list, as a silent protest against some measures, I've decided to not have this fic beta and therefore not sending it to one of the 2 Gibbs/Kate lists out there.

Author's Note: It's no beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine.

I can't believe this is my first piece after my little hiatus from the NCIS shipperdom. I have expected angst, but this? I had this sinking feeling my guts when I heard one character would be killed and that it would be our dearest Caitlin that would be offed. I don't know why I had that feeling, but I had wished and wished and wished for it to be wrong. I don't know what exactly I should feel right now. I adore Sasha Alexander. She's one of the best actresses I have seen out there (rivaling my love for Allison Janney and Kathryn Morris…) and to see her killed off like this in a rising series is a blow. But you see, Mark Harmon's character Simon over at The West wing was killed and we the fandom had survived up 'til today (he was killed, obviously, before NCIS, in Season 3, 2 years ago…), so there will still be a LOT MORE of "Kate is alive" fics out of me, I'm sure…

Anyway, enough of my babbling. I'll go on to write those in my blog…

* * *

Numbness.

It is as if his insides are all sucked away for the moment. There is nothing inside him, but the silence, eerie silence.

He doesn't know how to react – what exactly do you say, what exactly do you do, when one of your dearest friends, trusted colleagues is cold-bloodedly killed off by your worst enemy? Is there, out there somewhere, a guidebook, a protocol, something, by which he can abide? Where can he find the dummy's guide to react to the death of someone so integral and crucial in his life?

His hands are blistered, but he doesn't care – he is beyond caring about many things at this point. He has filed for so long that the wood is now hideously thin and without a doubt will not withstand being in the sea he loves so much – he used to love so much. Because, frankly, right now, he doesn't feel anything, least of all amorous.

He was there when Ducky unloaded her body. It was almost identical to what he dreamt almost exactly a year ago. The horror of unzipping the body bag and to see the woman he thought he will be spending a lot of time with lying idle on the gurney.

He can't shake the feeling that it's his fault, that it is his obsession, his lapse of caution, his inability to foresee Ari's deceit in its entirety. Kate was his target all along, not him. He should have known. He should have known when he volunteered the information about the terrorist cell. He should have snapped out of his self-centered state and become alert of his intended target when he oh so casually asked about Caitlin.

He said he would kill her if he went near her. It turns out he doesn't have to. Ari was miles away and he still succeeded in doing what he set out to.

He should have been faster in seeing the terrorist behind the door and pushed Kate out of the way and onto the ground instead. He should be on alert that Ari was not among the people they shot and that he was still a threat to his team. He should have not have bought his talk about a double agent and shot that man when he had the chance a year ago. He should have done a lot of things, and they would all equate Kate being alive and breathing and kicking.

And making fun of his hair style, and making Tony pay for his remarks, and for making McGee blush with her teases.

She should not be the one that's robbed of a chance to shine and show the world how bright a star she really is. She has potential, she has the skills, and most of all, she has the compassion that will make her one of the best agents. She would have learned to control her emotions, but she would learn to communicate and connect with people.

And now that chance is gone.

He has refused to let the interns pack up her desk. Her sketchpad is still in the drawer, and her coffee mug with the coffee (with too much cream), now cold, is still in the corner of her desk. It is as if he is waiting for her to come back through the door and screams surprise and laughs any day – not that she would find him in the bullpen had she made such appearance. Mandatory leave, the Director has insisted. He was not allowed inside the building, and so, he stayed locked up in his basement, using the only distraction he knows other than his work to stop himself from thinking.

From feeling.

He is a Marine, and Marines don't cry, not in front of people. He almost made an exception for her when he watched as Ducky brought her home. The Director was there, as was Fornell. They meant nothing to him, and certainly meant nothing to Kate. In his mind, they are as guilty as Ari for having killed Kate. It was their secrecy, their lack of interest in protecting his agents that leads to the loss of such a valuable member of his team.

Kate's desk will stay the way it is for as long as he can. She will always be with them, and she will serve as a reminder of people's deceit and betrayal. She will work with them from afar and make sure they don't become slack with their protection and security.

She will never go away. She will not be far from them.

A blister on his hand pops, and he throws away his tool in frustration.

The photo of Ari is still on his wall, now with a cluster of bullet holes that he wishes are on his person.

Kate has never been to his house, yet he thinks he can see her sitting on the bench watching him work, with that lazy smile of hers. He wishes he has taken the time to let her know she is one of the best agents he has ever come across. He wishes for a lot of things, and many of them will never come true anymore.

His boat abandoned, his thoughts no longer held back at the very back of his mind, he is flooded by jarred images that he does not want to ever see again. The scotch he keeps in the cupboard is inviting him for company, as is the gun he keeps in the basement.

The gun, which has now taken his tools' place in his hand, is shining in the dim light of his basement. He wonders how it feels to have the cold metal touching his temple; he wonders if he will feel anything at all as the bullet tears through his skull.

He wonders if Kate has felt anything. He almost wishes she has not worn that damn vest and that the terrorist has got her on her chest. She may still stand a chance then, with his marine training. She may still be alive if she hasn't stood up.

The weight of his pistol is familiar, and he numbly raises it. Safety clicked off and aim taken, and carefully, oh so carefully, he pulls the trigger.

His aim is perfect, for he rarely misses a stationary target miles away, let alone the now non-existent distance. The shot goes through the forehead, and he waits.

There is still no emotions, no feeling, nothing. The numbness continues its reign.

Then, his resolve breaks, and finally, something sparks in him. Rage, he recognizes. Rage, he can understand, and realizes it is a much more familiar and safe emotion to have. He sweeps all that he has on the desk in his basement to the floor, secretly enjoying the sound of glass shattering and things breaking.

For the first time since he froze on the rooftop at Norfolk, he feels something. But it's already too late. Emotions are useless now that everything is too late and readily falls into blankness.

He closes his eyes and allows the wave after wave of images and memories to ignite inside him feelings he would rather leave unexplored.

The end is here. He can feel it. The final resolution is coming, and he knows what he needs to do. Wit the barrel still hot, he throws the gun to the floor and stands up to tear his nemesis' photo off his wall.

There is no blood in the room that follows the shot, but he knows that will change. Next time, he vows. Next time, when he takes a shot through the forehead of his archenemy, he will make sure there will be blood.

Then, he will finally allow himself to do ultimate penance for letting one of his team members down. Before that, he has a job to do, and a death to avenge.


End file.
